


So come, hail & damnation

by wizened_cynic



Series: Dress Your Family in Kevlar and Armani [14]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizened_cynic/pseuds/wizened_cynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee and the worst apricot danish Rossi has ever had: this is a date. (Pre-Beezus)</p>
            </blockquote>





	So come, hail & damnation

January in Seattle is cold and damp and the pathetic excuse they call snow turns into ice as soon as it hits the ground.

Rossi hates winter and he hates Seattle and he especially hates winter in Seattle.

The only source of comfort he's getting is that Emily is sitting across from him on what might be their third or fourth date --- he's not really keeping count and, honestly, he doesn't know what counts as a date anymore. Movie and a pizza? Date. Desperate, almost feral sex in a Best Western after burying a fallen member of the Massachusetts State Police on a hunt for a serial sniper? The jury's still out on that one.

Coffee and the worst apricot danish Rossi has ever had: this is a date, he supposes, and hopefully it will turn into something more when they get back to the hotel.

If they don't slip on a patch of black ice on the drive back and kill themselves running into a pole, that is.

Emily sips her tea silently, eyes glazed over in thought. Rossi watches her, wondering what's going on in that mind of hers, equal parts brilliant and dark, fantastically funny at times and utterly dirty when need be.

It's nice, he thinks, to be with a person. Just be with her, without the need to talk, to probe into every little thing. To analyze and overturn stones, beam flashlights into closets to look for skeletons.

A blast of icy air slices through him as the door opens and a harried couple straggles in, dragging one crying child behind them and pushing another one ahead in a stroller. The woman settles down at a table in the far corner, by the restrooms, while her husband lines up for their orders.

"Daddy's getting your chocolate milk, Ryan," the woman croons to her son as she lifts the baby out of the stroller. The infant is wrapped in a fleecy white bunting that makes her look as if she's been swallowed by a miniature polar bear. Her bright blue eyes meet Rossi's and it unnerves him.

"I WANT NOW!" Ryan whines, which his sister finds deeply amusing. She giggles madly and prompted by this display of appreciation, Ryan begins making faces at her until his dad comes back with the promised chocolate milk.

"And a chai latte for m'lady," the husband says, giving his wife a kiss before taking the baby and starting to nibble on a Worst Danish Ever.

Rossi's too old to have his heartstrings tugged so easily, but it does remind him why he does his job. For Ryan and his sister, for keeping families together. Keeping innocent people safe.

Emily, however, is staring at the family with a look of longing that makes Rossi ache. Ryan waves at her and she waves back, smiling like she's been given a million bucks. Rossi actually _has_ a million bucks (and more) but he's pretty sure he couldn't get that smile out of her if he tried.

It's her smile that makes him realize he's old. He's old and he's tired and he doesn't have the time or patience to mess around anymore. He doesn't want to mess around anymore. He wants Emily, and Emily wants, well, _that_. And if he can give her that, then he will.

"Let's do this," he tells her, reaching for her hand and stroking his thick, calloused thumb along the delicate bones of her fingers.

Emily turns around, startled, "Do what?"

Rossi nods towards Ryan and his parents, who are now mopping spilled chocolate milk with paper napkins and trying to stop the baby from throwing herself onto the ground head-first.

"That."


End file.
